


The Line of Succession

by sinslikescarlet



Category: Marvel (House of M), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - House of M, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Dream Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Guilt, Incest, Love, Love Confessions, Masturbation in Shower, Minor Violence, Self-Hatred, Sexual Fantasy, Shame, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Twins, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream, maxicest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinslikescarlet/pseuds/sinslikescarlet
Summary: When Lord Magnus announces that he wants Pietro to marry so that the line of succession for Genosha is secure, the Prince's world is turned upside down. House of M AU.Tags will be updated as the series is. Rated E for language and sexual content.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this idea for a little while. Always love writing with Pietro as the center. Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading :)

Sunlight flooded the prince’s grand bedroom. Every curtain had been pulled back so that its occupant could bask in the warm sun like a lazy cat. He was sprawled out on a couch that looked as though it was on loan from the Palace of Versailles. Taking a sip of his morning cup of tea, Pietro flipped through his stack of magazines and newspapers. A prince should be up to date on current affairs and what everyone was talking about—even if it was moronic.

          It seemed that all the tabloids cared about was who he was going to marry. What dreck. The papers claimed that their obsession was justified as it would affect who was in power, but their fretting was all for naught. Pietro was never going to marry. He simply couldn’t wed a woman who didn’t hold his heart. There already was a woman that he loved deeply, but he couldn’t marry her. Proper society wouldn’t allow it.

          Quietly he chuckled to himself as he read through the papers and all their ridiculous guess as to whom he would take as his bride. It was all petty speculation—and a waste of paper, too. As the speedster finished his tea, a knock was upon his door.

          “Enter,” he called out.

          “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” a familiar voice said. Pietro glanced over and saw his favorite personal servant, Clint Barton, standing in his doorway.

          He liked Barton. He was blunt and called him out when he was being an asshole (which was very frequently). None of his other servants did such, and so he treasured Barton, and always made sure he was the one to wake him up. At least that way his day always started off well.

          “You’re fine,” Pietro waved, sitting up properly. “What is it?”

          “Your father wishes to have breakfast with you and your sisters this morning, sir.”

          The speedster glanced at the clock. Wanda usually woke in about half an hour, but Lorna—she wouldn’t be up for hours. She certainly wouldn’t be pleased with being woken up so early just for a family breakfast. Pietro narrowed his eyes.

          “He must have something important to discuss with us if he’s waking up my sisters.” The prince frowned, but still went about making himself presentable, stepping into the walk-in closet to pick out and outfit for the day.

          “I believe it has something to do with what you’re reading sir,” Barton smiled coyly.

          Pietro poked his head out of the closet to look at his servant. “You’re kidding.”

          Clint shook his head. “When I brought Lord Magnus his coffee this morning he was making a list of potential prospects and asked my opinion on the matter.

          Feigning a lack of interest, the prince went back to picking out his clothes. “I do hope you told him it’s a waste of your valuable time.”

          The servant chuckled. “I told him that I thought you would appreciate being involved in making the decision, and that your sisters probably would too.”

          “Perhaps,” the speedster muttered to himself. He emerged from his closet, wearing dark blue dress pants, a white button down, grey vest, and a striped blue tie—a meeting with his father warranted an extra something in his clothing choice.

          “Very nice sir. Now, would you like to wake your sister, or shall I?”

          The servant didn’t have to clarify which sister he spoke of—they both knew.

          “I’ll get Wanda, don’t worry about it,” Pietro smiled, running a hand through his hair.

          “Very good sir,” Barton nodded. “Your father asked that you all be present in the dining hall at exactly ten this morning, so don’t dilly dally.”

          “It shouldn’t be a problem,” Pietro winked. In just a moment he was standing in front of his twin’s bedroom. Gently he knocked on the ornate wooden door, then opened it slowly. The room was completely pitch-black, not even a sliver of light peaking through. Nonetheless, Pietro still knew his way around. He had navigated it in the dark countless times before, having found solace in Wanda’s room any time he had trouble sleeping. The prince tip-toed across, kneeling down when he reached the grand bed.

          He stayed there for a few seconds, taking in the sight of the sleeping princess. She was the epitome of beauty, her dark lashes resting against her rosy cheeks, cherry red lips just barely open. Her chestnut curls were a tangled mess, but Pietro didn’t care. No matter what her outward appearance was, Wanda was the loveliest creature in all the universe to him. Her soul was the purest of any he had come across in his years. He smiled sadly, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

          This woman was the reason he couldn’t marry. Wanda held his heart, completely and unconditionally, even if she didn’t quite know it. Nothing could make him stop loving her. He’d been content with pining from afar for over a decade, and planned on doing so for the rest of his life…but if his father was going to force him to marry some dignitary or princess or celebrity, he didn’t know if he could hide his love for his sister from his wife. And what then? A scandal like no other would erupt from the House of M—the prince of Genosha, having incestuous feelings towards his twin sister—it would ruin their family’s good name, and quite possibly kill their father from sheer shock. No. He couldn’t marry. His secret would almost undoubtedly be exposed, and everything would come crumbling down around them.

          Wanda shifted, eyes fluttering open. Pietro withdrew his hand, not noticing that he’d been absentmindedly caressing her while she slept.

          “Five more minutes,” she groggily whispered.

          “Not this morning, sweetheart,” Pietro murmured. “Father wants to see us in half an hour.”

          Wanda pulled the covers over her face. “Why’s that?” she asked, voice muffled.

          “Not sure,” Pietro fibbed, looking away. He got up from his knees and sat on the end of the bed. “Barton thinks he wants to discuss who I am going to marry.”

          That woke up the princess. She sat up, frowning. “That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “Father said we could choose who we marry. Lorna did. Why can’t you do the same?”

          “I don’t know.”

          She scoffed again and kicked off her covers. “That can’t be what father wants to talk about. I bet it has to be about some event he wants us to attend.”

          “Always so optimistic,” Pietro chuckled, staring off into nothing.

          Wanda went about finding her outfit, flipping lights on along the way. “One of us should be.”

          The prince laughed earnestly now. “I leave that in your ever-capable hands. Now, I’ll leave you so you can get ready.”

          “Don’t go yet,” Wanda pleaded quietly, grabbing her brother’s wrist. “You have to help me pick out something to wear.”

          “You look perfect in anything,” he admitted, looking down at the floor.

          “Nonsense. Now, the left,” she asked, holding up two dresses, “or the right?”

          It was 9:57 by the time she finished dressing and putting on her make-up. Pietro kneeled before her, his arms outstretched. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

          Wanda happily climbed into her brother’s arms, holding on tightly to his shoulders. He was certain that she’d notice the jump in his heart beat, like every time he carried her, but she never said anything. Pietro took in the scent of his sister, the warmth, the soft feel of her, before taking off running to the grand dining hall.

          Their father and Lorna were already waiting, Barton pouring cups of coffee. Lorna glared at the pair, clearly only crawling out of bed and wrapping a robe around her sleeping clothes before coming to the table. Erik, however, was impeccably dressed, hair slicked back in a fashion similarly to his son’s.

          “Good. We can begin,” the elder man said. “It was brought to my attention that overall morale amongst out people is relatively low, so help lift their spirits, I have decided that Pietro should be wed.”

          The prince gently set his sister down on her feet and looked out the window. Perhaps he could jump out of it. The fall couldn’t be too far, and the cuts from the glass would heal with time.

          “Sit, Pietro,” his father commanded. He obeyed.

          Barton began placing magazines and newspapers onto the table. One that particularly jumped out had a picture of Pietro, and in large, bold letters, read: “The World’s Most Eligible Bachelor.”

          Lorna gave the papers a confused look and scoffed. “As if anyone would want to marry you.”

          Erik ignored her comment. “Already it seems to be working. People are talking about this, and not of unrest or protests. Besides,” he noted, taking a deep drink of his coffee, “I’m not going to live forever. To continue this legacy, my children need to have children of their own.”

          He turned to face Pietro. “I’ve chosen you to get married because of whispers I have heard. People are starting to ask why you’re still single. You’re 28, handsome, and powerful. By all means, you should at least have a steady girlfriend by now.”

          The prince looked away, saying nothing. If he couldn’t jump out the window, maybe if he spilled hot coffee on his pants he’d have a serious burn and they’d have to take him to a medical center—which was away from this dining table.

          “Do you have someone in mind for your spouse?” Erik asked, interrupting Pietro’s thoughts on what the after effects were of second degree burns. He simply shook his head.

          “I have some suggestions then,” Erik said, nodding to Barton. The servant handed the older man a manila envelope with numerous pictures of prominent women.

          “Father, you can’t be serious,” Wanda glared.

          “I need to know that the line of succession is secure—that the Magnus claim to the throne will last. What if something happens to Lorna? I need to know everything will be alright, even if the worst occurs.”

          “Then shouldn’t you have a folder for me? Pietro and I are the same age.” Wanda crossed her arms.

          Erik looked straight at Wanda with sad eyes. “Powerful men would be more likely to try and take advantage of you and your power because you’re a sapien. I would rather you meet someone on your own.”

          The group looked at each other in silence, the tension thick in the air. It was rarely ever mentioned that Wanda was without powers—it was something that the family tended to leave unsaid. To say it, and to voice that she was more vulnerable because of it, was simply taboo. Wanda shrunk in her seat, backing down.

          “What about the princess of Wakanda?” Lorna suggested, breaking the silence. “How about the Inhuman princess? Or Allison Blaire?”

           Pietro stood before anyone could respond. “May I be excused?”

          Erik looked up at his son with confusion. “Don’t you want to help decide who you will spend the rest of your life with?”

          “Not particularly,” he lied.

          Lorna looked at him with confusion and worry. Wanda looked as though she was going to cry, hurt and fear written on her features.

          “If you truly don’t care, then yes, you may be excused,” Erik said slowly.

          “Thank you.”

          And with that, Pietro was gone, leaving only a gust of wind behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Thought I would treat everyone to a short chapter to celebrate. Enjoy!

It was well into the evening when Pietro finally emerged from his room, and he only did so because of the bitter pang of hunger plaguing his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything, save for his morning cup of tea, if that even counted. While it was true that he could have called on a servant to bring him something, he couldn’t get the hurt look on Wanda’s face out of his mind. He had to see her, to tell her not to worry—to tell her some falsity that would put her at ease.

          Pietro found his sister in her own bedroom, sprawled out on her bed, watching the news. Well, if grown adults gossiping about the rich and famous could be considered news. They were talking about him, about who they thought would be the best choice for him. He hadn’t met a single one of these “reporters” though he did recognize their guest. Janet Van Dyne, the personal designer to the House of M, sat in the middle of the group, frowning. She’d been crafting his suits since he was a teenager and considered the woman a friend.

          “Do they have any good ideas?” Pietro asked, leaning against the doorway to Wanda’s room.

          Wanda looked over at him and moved on her bed to make room. “No. The only one with any sense is Janet. She just keeps telling them they’re all ridiculous.”

          The prince chuckled. “Maybe she could tell father that.”

          Wanda sat up and opened her arms to her brother, silently asking for his embrace. He was there in a second, holding her close to his chest, unable to deny her request. Pietro held on for dear life, holding his sister with such force he had a feeling he’d leave bruises on her.

          “Are you alright?” she asked, looking up at him with shimmering emerald eyes.

          “I suppose.”

          The princess rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. “I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

          “What am I supposed to say, then?

          “You’re supposed to tell me how you’re really feeling.” She sighed, snuggling closer. “You know you can tell me anything.”

          That wasn’t true. Pietro could never tell her of quite a few things. Like how when they were ten it was he who ate the last slice of cherry pie that Wanda had been eyeing, not the dog. Or how he had accidentally turned all of Wanda’s dress whites pink by throwing in one of his red running shirts into the wash when they were thirteen. Or how he had threatened to break both legs of one of her dates when they were in high school if he brought her home a minute late (of course the boy brought her back home an hour early and was never heard from again).

          And he could never tell her that he had dreamed of kissing her since they were fifteen. Or that the nights she comes to sleep in his room because she had a nightmare are the nights he gets the best sleep, because he gets to hold her in his arms. Or that he had only slept with women with the same hair color and hair style as her because if he fucked them from the back, he could pretend they were her.

          “Then I’m feeling like I want to get drunk and forget that this is all happening for a couple of hours.”

          Wanda chuckled and pulled back from the embrace. “Do you want me to go find something to drink then?”

          In truth, he didn’t. He wanted Wanda to stay right there with him, to hold him in her arms, pet his hair and say that everything was going to be alright. But he knew that asking her to do that would reveal just how afraid he was, and he couldn’t do that. He was already skirting on the line of being pathetic.

          “I’ll go with you. I wouldn’t mind something to eat, too.”

          The twins managed to bother a couple of the cooks to make something to eat, and take a bottle of wine with them. It wasn’t whiskey, but Pietro wasn’t complaining. The food was good, the drink nice, and the company perfect. Together they sat at the same table they sat at that morning, plates empty and glasses full. Wanda had barely touched her wine, while Pietro was already on his fourth glass.

          Usually Pietro didn’t like Wanda seeing him like this. The speedster always tried to keep up a strong front. When they were younger and their father was away, off doing whatever was necessary to build Genosha, they had each other. It was alright for his sisters to be scared and cry, but he couldn’t. He had to be fearless and keep a stiff upper lip. Pietro always looked out for his sisters, whether it was something as petty as putting a band-aid on a scrape or as heroic as defending them from protesters before Genosha was built. But tonight was different.

          He wasn’t quite sure how much longer he’d be able to be with his sister like this. If he wanted to keep his feelings secret, he would have to distance himself from her. His new wife would certainly question the amount of time the two spent together, and how physically close the two were as well. Even at the table, the twins were side by side, their chairs practically connected, with Wanda’s hand on top of Pietro’s. This was normal—all three siblings had breakfast together once a week, and the twins would always sit in such a manner. Lorna didn’t seem to mind, but when she’d married Alex and he’d stumbled upon it, he voiced his confusion.

          Pietro guzzled down the rest of his wine, a new realization hitting him. After he got married, he’d never be able to have nights with Wanda ever again. He wouldn’t be able to go to his sister when he couldn’t sleep, and she wouldn’t be able to go to him either. He cherished those nights where he could hold her, listen to the sound of her slow, steady breathing, and whisper words of comfort. Once it was empty, Pietro set the glass down with a little more force than necessary.

          Wanda quirked an eyebrow and held the wine bottle out of his reach. She didn’t have to ask—he already knew her question.

          “I’m just realizing that everything is going to change if I…” he drifted off, unwilling to voice his fear.

          “Not everything,” Wanda smiled. Her kind eyes shone like a lighthouse, guiding a ship home in a storm. “We’ll have each other, no matter what.”

          Pietro rested his head on the table, staring at the view from the window—the twinkling lights of Genosha taunting him. It was almost as if they glowed just to remind him that he could run away and hide in the city, but not for long. Once the sun rose those lights would fade, and so would his illusion of freedom.

          Wanda started rubbing circles on his back, her nails sending shivers down his spine. Pietro shut his eyes and savored the sensation.

          “Come now, I believe it’s time for you to go to bed,” Wanda cooed, her hand leaving him. He opened his eyes and saw that she had gotten out of her chair and was offering him her hand.

          “I don’t want to be alone,” he whispered, the words barely audible. Still, he took his sister’s hand and stood up. He let her guide him to his bedroom and to his bed. He simply sat and watched her as she set out his night clothes.

          “If I run a bath for you, will you take it?” Wanda asked, caressing his cheek.

          “Yes,” he answered. Deep in his heart he wanted to ask her to join him, but dared not voice it, not even think it. Not while the drink was still fogging his mind.

          His sister left the bedroom and went into the bathroom. The rush of water could be heard as she started filling the garden tub for him. Slowly Pietro began disrobing, taking off his tie and vest. He tried to unbutton his dress shirt, but his hands kept shaking so much he couldn’t get a grip on them.

          Wanda returned to him and gently pushed his hands down to rest at his sides. Slowly she worked on the buttons herself, one by one, until they were all undone. Pietro desperately wanted to tilt her head towards his and capture her lips in a sweet kiss, but he did no such thing. Instead he murmured a thank you and slid the dress shirt off, letting it fall on the floor.

          “Go now,” Wanda instructed, lightly pushing her brother towards the bathroom. “I expect you to be squeaky clean in half an hour. I’ll send Kurt to check on you and make sure you don’t turn into a prune.”

          “That’s the blue one, right?”

          “Yes, Pete, he’s blue.”

          “Can I…” Pietro started, having trouble looking his sister in the eyes. “May I come to your room tonight? If I can’t sleep, that is.”

          Wanda laughed and pushed against his back once more. “Of course. You don’t have to ask for that, silly.”

          As she turned to leave, Pietro watched her cross the large expanse that was his bedroom. “Goodnight, Wands,” he called out.

          “Goodnight, Pete,” she called back, a sly grin on her face. With that, she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her, leaving Pietro alone with his thoughts and his bath.


	3. Chapter 3

“Wanda?”

          Pietro opened the door to his sister’s room just a crack, unsure if she had gone to bed yet or not. Light ushered him in, letting him know that Wanda was still awake. However, the silence in her room told him she was not there. He let himself in, nonetheless, as was customary. Both twins were more than welcome in the other one’s rooms, even if the other was not present. Hell, even Lorna was welcome in their rooms, and their relationship wasn’t nearly on the same level of intimacy. The speedster took his time as he walked in the room, tentatively exploring, even if he had seen the inside of this room more times than he could count. The effects of the alcohol were still lingering—more of a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach now than a pleasant numbness. He knew himself well enough to be careful when in this stage of drinking. This was when he was the most susceptible to a loose tongue and poor choices.

          With that in mind, the prince tip-toed to the large bed, holding his robe close to his chest. It didn’t hit him until he was standing right at the foot of the bed that several items of clothing were laid out. Wanda’s night clothes, to be exact. And the clothes she had been wearing earlier that day, too. If they were all here…then what was Wanda wearing?

          A rush of blood hit Pietro’s face as he realized how poor his timing was. His sister must be in the bathroom, just finishing a shower or bath or something—and was completely nude. The prince was locked in place, unable to move either out of sheer embarrassment or curiosity, or possibly a combination of both. What if she came out of the bathroom in such a state, with him just standing there? His heart began to race at the idea. What he wouldn’t give to see Wanda like that. Sure, he’d seen her naked before, but that was when they were just children. After they turned six their father had stopped letting them take baths together, change in the same room, etc. Pietro had wondered how his sister’s body had matured ever since it began changing, but had kept it to just that. Wondering. His mind drifted to the subject on occasion, typically when he was touching himself, but now was not the time. Now, he needed to do everything in his power to think of anything but that, and even better, get his feet moving. He had to remove himself from the room.

          Yet he was like stone. A stupid, moronic, horny stone.

          A familiar sound flooded his ears. Wanda’s humming. Had she come out from the bathroom and was in the room now? How the hell had he not noticed? Slowly he turned toward the source of the noise, afraid and yet excited at what he might see.

          A fuzzy pink robe with a tea-cup pattern covered his sister. She was looking around her drawers for something, brushing her damp hair, and humming to herself, acting as though her brother wasn’t even there.

          Relief and disappointment filled the prince. Even in his buzzed mind, he knew it was better to not see Wanda nude. It would only fuel his perverted fantasies even further, and he certainly didn’t need that. Not with the impending threat of an arranged marriage hovering over him.

          “What’re you looking for?” Pietro asked, trying to seem at least remotely normal. 

          Wanda didn’t even bother turning to face him. She simply continued her search. “Oh, my favorite necklace. I was wearing it before I took my shower, but now I can’t seem to find it.”

          Pietro moseyed over, figuring he should make himself useful. Still, he kept a safe distance. No need to get too close. “What’s it look like?”

          “You of all people should know. You’re the one who gave it to me,” Wanda smiled.

          Pietro blushed even more. He had given his sister countless gifts over the years, but he knew exactly what she was talking about. He’d had the necklace custom made for their sixteenth birthday. A pendant that was half garnet, half aquamarine, to symbolize their shared bond. It was a simple piece of jewelry—nothing extraordinary that would catch much notice from others. Something that was just for Wanda so she would know that he was always there for her.

          He let himself look at his sister now. Her face was scrunched up in concentration, her brows knotted as she searched through her drawers. And there, around her neck, was the silver pendant. Pietro couldn’t help but laugh.

          “Look in the mirror, and you’ll find it.”

          “What do you mean look—” she stopped, eyes widening as she took in her reflection. Wanda turned towards her brother, giving him a sly smile.

          “I don’t know why I bother doing anything. I should just know that you’ll always be there to swoop in and save the day.”

          Pietro scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think that was exactly saving the day…” Besides, he wouldn’t always be there. All too soon he wouldn’t be there. But he didn’t dare say that.

          “No, you most certainly saved the day,” she grinned, putting her hairbrush down and making her way towards her brother. She stopped and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before going to the bed and scooping up the discarded clothing.

          “I’ll be right back.”

          Pietro nodded. He returned to the bed, pulling back the covers and removing his robe. He felt warm in his nightclothes—stifling, really, but he crawled into bed nonetheless. Hopefully sleep would soon overtake him and cool his thoughts.

          Wanda didn’t take long. She was crawling into the bed alongside her brother in a matter of minutes, not even enough time for Pietro to doze off. Even though the bed was more than large enough for both of them to sprawl out completely and not touch each other, the twins unconsciously snuggled up next to each other. The princess rested her head on her brother’s strong chest and smiled up at him.

          “I’ve missed nights like these.”

          “What, ones where you get my clothes wet from your hair?”

          She gave her brother a teasing slap on his chest. “No, silly. Ones where it’s just you and me. No one around to muck it up with talk of politics, society, or anything else.”

          “Mhm,” Pietro agreed, shutting his eyes. The weight of Wanda on his body felt heavenly, the scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils with the scent of strawberries and mangos.

          “Don’t fall asleep yet, Pete,” she whined. “I want to talk to you some more.”

          “Mhm…”

          Wanda must’ve chuckled, a vibration going through her body and reverberating through her brother. “Sweet dreams, Pete.” She began to hum a lullaby from when they were young, her delicate music guiding Pietro to sleep.

          The next thing he knew, the room was overwhelmed in darkness, not a light to be found. The pleasant humming from his sister had now gone silent, and was replaced with her deep breathing. Her soft breath was on Pietro’s neck, her body pressed against his back. Wanda’s arms were wrapped around her brother’s chest, holding on tightly. One of her legs was tangled up in his. Pietro smiled to himself at the feeling. This was all he ever wanted. To be close to her. To comfort her. To bring her joy, in any way possible.

Pietro let his body relax in her touch, and let the rhythmic sound of his sister’s breathing lull him back to sleep.

          Soon he was dreaming.  He knew he was dreaming. This was a dream he had many times before. He and his sister were in a picturesque meadow, stretched out on a red checkered blanket. Wanda was cradling Pietro’s head on her chest, running her fingers through his hair. Pietro held onto her waist, drawing incoherent patterns on her stomach. The dress she wore was a soft white cotton, the fabric pleasing to the touch.

          Wanda kissed his forehead, gently angling his head up towards hers.

          “Kiss me,” she murmured, barely audible.

          Pietro did as he was told, gently shifting his weight so that he was laying atop her, soft lips meeting in a lazy kiss.

          Usually he would kiss her until she was breathless, have her beg him to do more. To touch, to lick, to suck. He would give in to her requests, drawing the most wonderful and erotic noises from her mouth by playing her body like an instrument. And only when she had screamed his name out in ecstasy, then he would enter her, and bring her to climax one more time. A beautiful dream…but it was still a dream.

He pulled away from his sister, melancholy filling his stomach.

Wanda reached for him, pulling him back into the embrace. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” she asked, caressing his cheek.

          Pietro stared down at her sweet face, worry painted across her features. “You didn’t do anything. I…I just can’t do this. It’s all a lie. This is all a dream.”

          “Why should that matter?” she pouted, pushing back a stray hair that had fallen in his eyes.

          “Because it’s silly for me to linger on what can never be…on what will never happen,” the prince sighed. “I…I need to move on. I need to stop loving you. I just have to.”

          Wanda pulled him even closer. “You know you can’t stop loving me. You’ve loved me since we were teenagers, and it’s only grown stronger over time. You’ve tried to stop before and it’s never worked.”

          “But this is different. I have to get married to someone else. I have to have children with another woman…How can I raise a family with someone I don’t love? I have to stop loving you Wanda…so that I can love someone I can actually have. My heart cannot be in two places at once.”

          The princess wiped away a rogue tear that Pietro hadn’t even realized he had cried. “Shh, dear brother. Do not think of such sad things.” She placed chaste kisses all across his face, showering him with affection that he did not deserve. “Do not think of such sad things. Think of now. Of how this feels. Of how you feel when you are with me.”

          She kissed him truly this time, capturing his lips with her own. He returned the action, cradling her face, holding her as close as he physically could.

          She was right. Deep down he knew he would never stop loving Wanda like this, no matter what. That’s why he had been filled with such dread, that was why he had drunk himself stupid and was sleeping in her bed that night. Even if he tried, his love for Wanda would never fade.

The kiss grew more and more heated, more and more desperate as time inched forward. The princess wrapped her legs around his middle, rutting against him, little moans leaving her. Pietro ate them up, the noises only driving him further. He bit her bottom lip, and she gasped at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

          When had they lost their clothing? It didn’t matter. He let one hand wander down Wanda’s body, squishing and groping and pinching all the way. He reached between their intertwined bodies and found Wanda’s core, hot and dripping for him. For only a moment he teased her, stroking her outer lips, coating his fingers in her slick. Wanda threw her head back, moaning loudly, saying her brother’s name again and again and again.

He pressed one finger inside, pushing past the tightness.

          “Take me!” she gasped, “please! I need you.”

          And then it was all gone.

          Pietro’s eyes flew open. He was back in reality, covered in darkness. The prince was covered in a fine layer of sweat, his heart pounding, his breathing hard. He had an erection, his cock so hard it hurt. Thank goodness Wanda was asleep, none the wiser. He shot a glance behind him, just to make sure. Her eyes were shut, her lips open just a hint, and her breathing steady. His sister was still holding him, her front against his back. She hadn’t moved a bit.

          Gently the prince unwrapped his sister from around him, and got up from the bed. He couldn’t be close to her like this, not with where his mind had just wandered to. Slowly and silently, Pietro tip-toed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Maybe a cold shower would help. He threw his clothes to the floor and jumped into the shower, turning it so cold that in seconds he was shivering.

          The cold did nothing to cool his thoughts. The prince kept flashing back to his dream, to Wanda crying out his name, her rosy red lips wet from their steamy exchange. How soft her body felt, how right it felt underneath him.

          “Take me, please!” she had pleaded. “I need you.”

          A shiver ran down his back at the thought. Her voice…her words were more intoxicating than any drink. Despite his better judgement, Pietro took himself in hand and let himself remember…let himself succumb into his sinful perversion.

          It didn’t take long for him to finish, and all evidence of his sin was washed down the drain. He turned the water off, dried himself, and slid his clothes back on. He took his place back in bed, and this time, laid away from his sister.

          Wanda stirred. His movements must’ve woken her.

          “Pietro?” she grumbled, hands reaching out blindly.

          “Right here, Wands.” He took one of her hands in his own and gave it a squeeze.

          Her eyes opened just slightly, squinting at him. “So cold. Come here.”

          He reluctantly crawled into her open arms, allowing his sister to make herself comfortable and curl around him once more. She gripped the collar of his nightshirt, keeping him in place.

          “Don’t leave me,” she whimpered, the words barely audible.

          “Never,” he smiled sadly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I’ll always be with you. No matter what.”

          Before he had finished speaking, she’d already drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of the story so far! Feedback is greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

“I figured I would find you here.”

Pietro opened his eyes to see Barton standing over him, a cocky grin on his face. Silently the prince lifted his pointer finger to his lips, signaling for the servant to be quiet. Wanda was still sound asleep, wrapped around her brother and holding on tight.

“I’m sorry your majesty, but it’s time for both of you to start your day. The princess has a dress fitting in an hour, and you are fully scheduled for interviews with multiple outlets of the press today.” Barton made his way to the great windows, opening them up and unleashing the full wrath of the sun onto the groggy twins.

          Wanda groaned and hid her face in her brother’s chest, recoiling away from the light. Instinctively Pietro pulled her closer, as if protecting her from an enemy. He glared at the servant.

          Without even turning to look back at them, Barton laughed. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just doing my job.”

          “Who exactly will I be speaking to today? For these silly interviews, that is?” Pietro grumbled, gently petting his sister’s curls.

          “Oh, the usual. CNN, NBC, Fox, CBS…Your father wanted to make sure all of the bases were covered.”

          “What about the SNT?”

          Barton turned at that. “Sapien News Today? Why would you talk to them?”

          “Perhaps because nearly 40 percent of the population of Genosha are sapien?” Pietro rolled his eyes. Barton should know that—the servant was a sapien himself. 

          The servant sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, come on. Get up! You two have places to be.”

          It took a lot of convincing and the promise of a nap later in the day before Wanda released her brother from her grip. She remained in bed as he went about brushing his teeth.

          “I’m assuming you’ll be insisting on getting ready in here instead of your own quarters, sir?” Barton asked, a brow quirked.

          The prince simply nodded, toothbrush in his mouth. “What suit should I be bringing over?”

          “The blue one with the white stripes,” Wanda called out. “I’ve always liked the blue one.”

          “So be it.” Barton stated as he walked out of the room.

          Pietro waited a moment before scrambling over to his sister’s bedside. “Hey, I’ve got an idea.”

          Wanda looked up at him with skepticism. “I know that look. What are you planning?”

          “Let’s sneak out tonight, huh? Go to that bar that you like, the Sapien one that has drinks named after old movies, and play darts or something?”

          “Are you certain that’s a good idea? Won’t the press be looking for you more than usual because of all these interviews?” Wanda squinted.

          “I always dye my hair when we go out. Nobody’s recognized me before, and we’ve gone out…how many times now?”

          “27 times.”

          “I’d say we should be safe then,” Pietro scoffed.

          “Are you sure? Whenever we go there, they always talk badly about father and Lorna…and you.” Wanda frowned.

          “Isn’t that your favorite bar?”

          “Yes, but—”

          “Wands, you helped me out a lot last night. Let me do something for you tonight, okay?”

          “I don’t know…”

          The door opened, Barton returning with the suit, cologne, and a comb. He walked over to Pietro and began combing through the prince’s snowy hair.

          “Come now, you need to get dressed and there’s no need to scar your sister with the image of you naked,” Barton frowned, pushing the prince towards the bathroom. “Although you could have easily solved that by getting ready in your own room…”

          “Too much work,” Pietro chuckled. Wanda smiled and laughed right with him. The prince gave his sister a wink before disappearing into the grand bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

          Pietro loosened his tie, relaxing in the back of the luxury limousine. He and Barton were on their way back to the palace from their long day of interviews. Well, it had been for Pietro. Barton had simply plopped his ass down in a comfortable chair in a lounge somewhere in the news station’s office and read a book while the prince was grilled on everything from his favorite food to what he looked for in a woman. Even if Wanda didn’t agree to go with him to a bar in the town that night, Pietro was going to go on his own. He needed to get away from his station for just a couple hours.

          “You did well today, sir. You only insulted three out of the four reporters today,” Barton smirked.

          “Eh, they had it coming. What do they expect me to say when they ask me moronic questions?” Pietro smiled.

          “I don’t particularly find that the question of “what is your workout routine?” to be moronic.”

          “Clint, I run. What else would I do?”

          The servant laughed at that. “You have a point there.”

          “Next time we do the rounds, please make sure we get an interview booked with the SNT. They ask real questions, and I rather liked that one journalist we spoke to—what was her name again?”

          “Sharon Carter, I believe. She’s related to two famous Sapien heroes,” Barton noted. “What was it that you liked about her?”

          Pietro looked out the window at the blur of buildings and lights. “She asked me real questions. About politics. Policy. World views and philosophy. Nothing of this nonsense about my daily hair routine or what television show I’m watching.”

          The servant nodded, saying nothing.

          Once they arrived at the palace, Pietro bid his servant goodnight and ran to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and quickly began to strip. As much as he wore suits, they could still be incredibly uncomfortable after a few hours—especially after being grilled on every aspect of his personal life. He had just finished kicking his pants off when his sister came out of the walk-in closet, her arms full of clothing.

          “Shit, Wands!” the prince jumped, rushing to put his pants back on. “Sorry—I didn’t think you were in here—I was just—”

          Wanda held her hand up, a sock falling to the floor, and laughed. “Pete, stop. You’re fine.”

          Heat hit Pietro’s cheeks. “What’re you doing in here anyway?” he asked.

          “Grabbing some clothes for our night out. Should I braid my hair, or put it in a pony tail this time?”

          The prince smiled, plopping down on his bed. He was thankful she would be accompanying him that night. He would have gone on his own if she didn’t want to, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun. Everything was so much better when she tagged along.

          “Hmm, I’m feeling a braid tonight,” Pietro mused. “What about me, then? What color should I dye my hair?”

          “Brunette. You did red last time and it looked awful.” She tossed a box of hair dye at him, the speedster easily catching it.

          “Yes, yes, I know. You only told me a million times that night.” The prince rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Pick out something nice for me to wear.”

          He went into his bathroom, ripping the box open. The dye pack was easy enough—rub it in like you’d rub in any shampoo. Once the evening was over, it’d wash right out, making it perfect for their little nightly getaways. He could run home, take a shower, and no one would be the wiser.

          Pietro got right to work on his hair, making sure to cover every inch of his scalp, even taking extra care and rubbing some of the dye on his eyebrows. While letting the dye sink in, he shaved off any little stubble that had grown since that morning. Any white would give him away, even little whiskers. Soon enough, he was washing the brown from his hands, and looking at a very different man in the mirror.

          When he walked out, Wanda was sprawled across his favorite lounge chair, her hair in a long, tight braid, wearing an over-sized maroon sweater and skinny jeans with grass stains at the knees. It was something she’d never be caught wearing in public—far too casual and “improper” for a princess, according to their father. Pietro, of course, didn’t mind at all. He loved Wanda in all manner of clothing. Whatever she chose to dress in, she looked lovely.

          “Are those the jeans you wore when we ran to Baltimore?” Pietro asked, trying not to sound too excited. The twins had snuck out a few months ago and had ventured to the city to watch a football game. Once it had ended, they did some sight-seeing and, after a few drinks, Wanda had fallen. Nothing too serious—but enough to stain the pants.

          “You mean the ones I wore and so gracefully fell while visiting Fort McHenry? No, these aren’t the ones,” his sister winked.

          Pietro smiled at the memory. He’d picked her up, inspecting his dear sister to make sure she wasn’t hurt. She’d protested, insisting she was fine and not quite ready to go home yet. So Pietro had done the logical thing—Wanda wasn’t going to walk for the rest of the night, just in case she had another tumble. He’d had her climb up on his back, and he ran up and down the Chesapeake Bay. He could practically feel the spray of the water on his face, the smell of salt and cheap beer…

“Hurry up and get dressed. We’re running out of moonlight.”

          Pietro stuck his tongue out at his twin for interrupting his memory. Wanda had laid out faded blue plaid long sleeves and washed out jeans for him. Nothing he would have picked out for himself, but then again, the prince was more accustomed to wearing three-piece suits, and preferred to dress more formally. Even on days when he didn’t leave the palace, he still wore, at the very least, a dress shirt and slacks.

          The moment he had finished buttoning his shirt, Wanda was dragging him towards the window.

          “I think you’re more excited than I am,” Pietro laughed.

          “What, you sold me on the idea this morning. Is that so hard to believe?” she chuckled.

          “No—I’m not saying that—it’s just a nice surprise,” he smiled. “Here, give me a moment.”

          The only tricky part about their outings was the security system. It was quite possibly the most sophisticated in the country (other than Stark’s) but the prince had learned how to make it bend to his whim. His super-speed affected more than just his limbs—it gave him a speedy mind, too. Quickly Pietro tapped at the small screen by his window, his fingers a flurry of movement as he overrode the system and cleared it to be open. He pushed the window pane up, a brisk wind flowing in.

          Silently Pietro jumped out of the window and onto the ledge, balancing just right. He shifted himself to face the window, leaning in and offering Wanda a hand. She accepted it, and he gingerly led her down the roofs and siding until they landed in the gardens below. The prince knelt on the ground, offering Wanda his back. She climbed on, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest.

          “Ready to go?” he whispered.

          “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Wanda replied, hiding her face in her brother’s neck, her eyes squeezed shut.

          “Alright, Wands…three…two…”

          And they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting to the good stuff...let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the future!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning for some minor violence and sexual harassment.

Pietro stopped in a dark alley, about ten blocks away from the bar. He knelt down, allowing Wanda to get off. Just a few feet away, the energy and noise of the street called to him, inviting him to join in on the unofficial parade.

          “I don’t know how you do that,” the princess murmured, slowly straightening herself out and standing tall.

          “Well, you see Wands, I have this thing called the X gene, which gives me the ability—”

          She gave him a little slap on his chest. “You know what I mean. I always get dizzy when we go running…but for you…you always seem to be glowing after.”

          He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that. Now, come on, let’s have some fun. I could really use some tonight.”

          “I meant to ask you; how did everything go today?”

          The two left the alley and joined the groups of people walking up and down the street, all chatting, all in a rather joyous mood. A variety of music emanated from each little shop and bar, colorful lights illuminating their path. It could be seen as kitschy, but the prince found it to be charming.

          “Ugh, terrible. Every question was stupid. What shampoo do you use? What’s your dream vacation? Blah blah blah.”

          Wanda giggled. “Really? They asked you stupid things like that?”

          “Yeah. They of course asked me about…women and dating and preposterous things like that too…” Pietro blushed, looking away.

          “What did you say?”

          The prince stole a glance back at his sister, unsure how to respond. He’d avoided the subject at all costs during the interviews, usually found a way around it and dodged the question, but a couple of times they had backed him into a corner. He’d been as vague as possible, but still.

          “Nothing important,” he frowned. “Can we—can we talk about something else?”

          “Oh, of course. I’m sorry,” Wanda flushed.

          “It’s alright. Just…don’t want to think about this whole situation.”

          Wanda reached out and grabbed her brother’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course. I’m sorry for bringing it up. Let’s forget all about it and have some fun, alright?”

          “Yeah,” Pietro muttered, giving a squeeze back.

          He held onto her hand, unwilling to let go just yet. His bravado had been drained, and the usually easy ability to keep up the brave act seemed nearly impossible now. Stress seemed to radiate from every pore. His hands shook, his shoulders slumped, and his mind raced. The speedster was a mess, though he’d never admit to it.

          Being close to Wanda helped. He was already starting to feel better than he did earlier that day, but it wasn’t enough for him to be his normal self. Maybe they should have stayed in. Maybe he should have just asked for a repeat of the previous night—sweets and hugs and plenty of alcohol. But that was impossible now. Not after all this effort.

          Within minutes, the two were at the bar, standing in the crowd, holding drinks. Wanda delicately sipped at hers, a fruity mix, while Pietro downed his third shot of bourbon. The buzz was quickly starting to settle in, easing the prince’s nerves and overwhelming him with a sense of easiness. He could already feel some of the weight lifting off of his shoulders.

          When the bartender returned to their table, Pietro opened his mouth to order another, but found his sister’s elbow in his chest, and shut up. Wanda ordered another of her drink. When the man walked away, Pietro leaned down so his sister could hear him.

          “What was that for?”

          “You need to slow down. I would like you to be conscious tonight so we can get back home at some point,” she said, concern on her face.

          Pietro scoffed, but didn’t fight back. She was right. It was always his impulse to run when he should walk. He wanted so badly to forget his predicament that he started at a sprint, instead of easing himself in. Still. He didn’t have to let her know that he knew she was right.

          “How did your dress fitting go? Was it with Janet?” Pietro asked.

          Wanda’s face lit up. “Yes! It was so nice to see her. She’s designing a dress for me to wear to the Winter Jubilee.”

          “That’s months away,” Pietro noted, stealing a sip from Wanda’s drink.

          “Unlike some people, she can’t move at the speed of light,” the princess giggled, giving her brother a light slap on the chest. “She’ll probably be requesting a fitting with you soon.”

          “Oh good, my favorite. Standing still for an hour while a woman invades my personal space and measures every little bit of me,” Pietro rolled his eyes. In truth, he enjoyed his fittings with Janet. The woman was kind and intelligent, and was more than happy to talk to him about her view on politics. It was good to get a different perspective.

          “She thinks this whole situation is bull shit, by the way,” Wanda noted quietly. “Doesn’t agree with it one bit. She said she’ll be sure to tell any member of the press that asks for her opinion.”

          Pietro nodded. “I’ll be sure to thank her next time I see her.”

          The bartender returned, placing two drinks down. The one Wanda ordered, and another that appeared to be much stronger.

          “We didn’t order this,” Pietro said, pointing at the offending drink.

          “Compliments of that table over there,” he said nonchalantly, nodding towards a group of men, “for the lady.”

          Wanda shrank a little as she looked at the men responsible for her gift. They waved back, all smiles. The group seemed to be well off—all were attractive, strong, and well dressed. She gave a shy wave back.

Pietro’s face twisted into a snarl.

“Don’t drink that.”

Wanda looked up at him. “What? Why?”

Even though the group appeared to be harmless, and actually somewhat approachable, the prince didn’t trust them. He knew how men thought—especially men that had some drink in their system. When he was younger, he had snuck out and done exactly what they were doing. Dress nicely, buy a drink for a pretty girl, offer up a smile and polite conversation…and see where it led. Maybe giving a little nudge here and there, a charming smile or perhaps a brief hand touch. It worked like a charm each and every time, all ending the same—a quick tryst in the bathroom, maybe in a dark alley, or a cheap motel. Whenever the prince had set his plan out into motion, he never failed.

But he couldn’t tell her that.

 “You wouldn’t like it. It’s cheap vodka. It’d taste like paint thinner,” he lied.

“Uh huh,” Wanda smirked, talking a sip of her fruity cocktail.

Pietro looked down at her. “What? I mean it. See?” He grabbed the drink and downed it, sputtering as the liquid went down his throat. “Shit,” he coughed, “worse than paint thinner.”

His sister laughed at that, sliding her second cocktail towards him. “Here, dummy, this’ll take the taste away.”

“I thought I was supposed to be slowing down,” Pietro grinned, sipping at the drink.

“You are,” she laughed again, taking the drink out of his hand, spilling it all over his hands and pants.

She set the glass down, immediately apologizing and searching for napkins. “Pete—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—shit—”

Pietro chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, sis. Just give me a second so I can wash this off.” He gave her a reassuring smile before getting up and slowly zigzagging through the crowd, pushing his way to the restroom. He wanted to be quick—the prince didn’t want to return to the table and find that five more drinks had magically appeared—but there were so many people in the bar it was hard to move.

The restroom was small—probably the size of one of his closets. He didn’t mind it. It was good to get some perspective of what the masses had. As he ran hot water over his hands, he looked around. Dirt and grime were everywhere. One of the bathroom stalls had a broken sign on it, a plastic bucket was placed underneath one of the sinks, presumably to “fix” a leak. A section of the large mirror was broken. Obscenities were scribbled in marker on the wall. A hand painted sign read “Mutants Keep Out.”

Was that there last time they’d come? He couldn’t remember. Though, he probably would have remembered seeing something like that.

Finding a lack of paper towels, Pietro wiped his hands on the back of his pants to dry them, shoving past people to get back to his table. When Wanda came into view, the prince’s blood boiled. This was much worse than more drinks at the table.

In the short time it had taken for him to wash his hands, the group of men had abandoned their own table and taken up residence at his sister’s. Pietro began to push against the crowds with more force, flat out shoving people out of his way.

The men kept their plastered-on smiles even when Pietro returned, coming up behind Wanda and placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

“Who are our new friends?” Pietro asked, trying his best to hide his rage.

Before Wanda could respond, the apparent leader of the group stretched out a hand to Pietro. “Hey there! I’m—”

“Charmed,” Pietro cut him off, ignoring the man’s olive branch. “Do you gentlemen mind? My friend and I were having a private conversation.”

“She didn’t seem to be enjoying it much,” the leader said, fake concern on his face. “We saw lots of frowns on this lovely face of hers.”

One of those frowns was on her face at that very moment. “I appreciate your concern, but as I was saying earlier, I’m fine,” she said sternly.

“Are you sure ‘bout that, little lady? Your friend here doesn’t seem very friendly, and he’s had quite a few drinks. Perhaps you’d prefer if we kept you company this evening,” one of the men winked.

“You heard her. She’s fine where she is,” Pietro scowled.

One of the men leaned in. “Is this man a mutant, hun? You don’t have to bend to his will just because he’s got some fancy genes, you know?”

Pietro rolled his eyes. Perfect. Just what they needed. That kind of talk always irritated Wanda. Too many times growing up she had been teased about her strange super-powered siblings. Been told in whisper that she was better than them because she was “normal.” Even with their father in power and equal rights for mutants, even favoritism given to some, there were still people who weren’t fond of the next step in evolution. She simply wouldn’t tolerate ignorance like that anymore.

“So what if he is? Why should that matter?” Wanda spat.

“Because this bar is for sapiens only,” the leader sweetly smiled. “He wouldn’t be welcome here if he was anything but.”

The noise level in the bar had gone down an uncomfortable amount. People had begun to listen in on their confrontation. Eyes were watching them. Scrutinizing them.

“It might be time for us to leave,” Pietro whispered to his sister. It hurt him to say it, but these men seemed set on ruining their night. Maybe they could run off and try another bar, maybe in another part of town?

Wanda nodded, quickly opening up her purse and leaving enough money for their tab.

“Why you doing that? You two leaving?” one of the men asked.

“Your friend really must be a mutant then,” the leader announced. “Here, we’ll protect you. You can stay with us tonight,” he said, placing a hand on Wanda’s arm.

“Don’t touch her,” Pietro growled through gritted teeth.

“Why? Watcha gonna do? Shoot me with lazers? Set me on fire? Throw me—”

Before he could finish, Pietro jumped across the table and punched the man square in the jaw. Glass crashed on the floor, splintering into a million little pieces. Drinks spilled over the wood of the table and the linoleum of the floor. The offending man sat on the floor, lip bleeding, staring bullets at Pietro.

Wanda grabbed onto the back of her brother’s shirt. “Time to go,” she whispered, fear shaking her voice.

Without saying anything, Pietro used his speed to scoop his sister up into his arms, and run out of the bar. In the blink of an eye they were outside in the dark, sprinting through a maze of people, going anywhere but towards the bar. The prince made his way to a more affluent part of town, a couple of miles north of the bar. The fun beat of pop music, concrete and brick and colorful lights were replaced with soft piano, stonework, and clean, white lights. There were fewer small alleyways to hide in, but he found one, slowing down and resting there. Pietro let his sister climb out of his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Wanda bemoaned. “I didn’t know what to do. They wouldn’t leave and I didn’t want to draw too much attention to us, just in case someone recognized us.”

Trying to soothe her, Pietro brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Shh, it’s alright. This isn’t your fault.”

Wanda closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against Pietro’s open hand. “Still. I’m sorry.”

Pietro chuckled, patting her cheek before withdrawing his hand. “I really don’t mind, Wands. Haven’t been able to punch anyone in a while. Felt good.”

“What were they talking about with mutants not being welcome? I thought that was illegal now,” she asked, concern never leaving her face.

“It is,” he sighed. “Some people think they can ignore it though.”

The sound of several footsteps and chatter approached. Pietro looked out at the street from their little nook, and his heart sank.

Royal guards, all in uniform. At least ten of them. Could this night get any worse?

Trying his best not to let fear overcome him, the prince flattened himself against the wall. Wanda began to move past him to look, but he placed a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Guards. Ten or so. The blue one is with them.”

“What?!” Wanda gasped, pushing past her brother’s grip and looking. She nearly tumbled to the ground trying to return to the shadows of the alley, but Pietro caught her.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t breathe. Just hold on. I’ll get us out of here.”

“There’s no time for that,” Wanda hissed, “They’re too close!”

Pietro glanced back. She was right. They were about to pass them.

“Kiss me!” Wanda commanded.

“What?” the prince asked, all blood draining from his face.

“They won’t bother someone who is…preoccupied. Kiss me!”

He wanted to. He really did. It was a once in a lifetime chance. She would never ask him to do this again. If he wanted his greatest dream to come true, he would simply kiss her like she asked. But if he did as told, if he obeyed his sister, he didn’t think he would be able to hold back. How would he be able to restrain himself if he allowed himself this one perversion? What if all that was needed for him to fall down into the abyss was just one kiss? If he started, how would he ever be able to stop? It was like offering an addict just one more hit.

No, he shouldn’t—he couldn’t—

If he kissed her, he was doomed. But if he didn’t, if they were caught by the guards and brought before their father, they would be severely punished. Surely the two would be separated, and Pietro may be wed even sooner in an effort to reign him in. What if the same was done to Wanda? What if this convinced their father she needed guidance, that Pietro was a negative influence, and he set about getting her betrothed to some nobleman? A nobleman who wouldn’t be good enough for her, wouldn’t be able to properly appreciate her perfection.

No, he couldn’t do that to her.

They were doomed either way. No matter what he did, everything would change. Yet he was frozen in place, unable to move.

“Pietro,” Wanda urged, placing both of her hands on the sides of his face, “Now!”


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Pietro,” Wanda urged, placing both of her hands on the sides of his face, “Now!”

Against his better judgement, he did as told. Pietro pinned his sister against the wall of the alley, closing the distance between the two, crashing his lips against hers. He kissed her like a man starved—eager, hungry, and fervent. Wanda gasped in surprise, her grip on his face faltering. Pietro responded by moving one hand to gently caress her cheek, to keep her lips near his. His tongue parted her lips just enough to dart in, just enough for a quick taste. She was like the finest wine, the sweetest fruit on the planet. His resolve to keep this kiss chaste had already melted away. Just one taste and he was lost in her.

Wanda’s hands found purchase, clinging to his shirt collar, as if holding on for dear life. Pietro deepened the kiss further, opening her mouth more and sucking on her tongue. She whimpered, a delicious sound that only drove the prince further. He groaned, one of his hands moving to rest at her waist. He nibbled on her lower lip, eliciting another whine from the princess. She tried to mimic his movements, to follow his lips and tongue, but it was clear she was inexperienced. Pietro gently guided her, taking charge of the kiss, instructing her through example.

The hand on Wanda’s waist inched up her torso, eager to explore. The soft material of her sweater had begun to ride up, and Pietro’s hand gladly snuck under the fabric. At the contact, Wanda pushed away from her brother. Pietro only pulled her closed, and she threw her head back and bit her lip, her eyes shut. The prince took advantage of the princess’s exposed neck, and moved his lips there. He peppered little kisses up and down her skin, biting occasionally, as his hand continued to explore underneath her shirt.

“P-Pietro!” Wanda cried, her breath ragged, her voice hoarse.

The prince stopped, eyes shooting open.

The guards were nowhere to be found. No footsteps, no chatting could be heard. The only noise the prince heard was the deep breathing of his sister, gasping for air. He dared to look at her, afraid of what he would find.

Her lipstick was smeared, cheeks flushed. Her eyes were nearly black, not the shining emerald he’d grown so fond of. Little love marks were starting to rise up on her neck. Her red sweater had been pushed up past her bellybutton.

Pietro took a shaky step back, horrified. What had he done?

“They’re…they’re gone,” he mumbled, eyes looking everywhere but where his sister stood. “We should go home.”

Wanda fixed her sweater and wiped the back of her hand on her lips. She nodded silently, looking down at her feet.

The speedster scooped her up, and ran as fast as he could back to the palace. In the blink of an eye, Pietro was sitting Wanda down on her bed and turning to leave.

“Pietro, wait.”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder and saying nothing.

“G-Goodnight.”

The prince turned away and took in a deep breath.

“Goodnight, Wanda,” he sighed.

Before he could do anything else, he stepped out, shut the door behind him, and sprinted to his own room.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks had passed since the night Pietro had kissed his sister. Two weeks since he had spoken to her. Two weeks since he had seen her. The prince had curled up in his bedroom and refused to leave. He was a monster, and needed to be kept away from the rest of the world. The only people he allowed to see him were Barton, Rictor, and Angel. Barton brought him food and drink, while Rictor and Angel took turns watching his door. He knew there had to be whispers, gossip about why he had locked himself away, but he didn’t bother concerning himself with it. He simply laid in bed and stared out his window, silently chastising himself for his sins.

          The prince had grown a scruffy beard in his time of seclusion. He was neglecting his personal appearance, choosing to wear simple grey sweatpants that were too big for him, not even bothering with a shirt. All he ate was plain bread and earl grey tea. His showers lasted hours—simply standing under the water after washing up, overwhelmed by guilt. At least in the shower, he couldn’t tell if he was crying or not.

          A number of doctors had come in and inspected him, most likely called in by his father, much to his chagrin. They’d been unable to find anything wrong with Pietro. Then came the physiatrists, but they got nowhere. Every question was met either with silence or outright lies. It would have been much easier if everyone had just agreed to leave the prince alone until he managed to cope with this new level of self-loathing.

          It appeared that maybe his father had done just that for the past three days—there had been no interruptions, no unwanted visitors, no poking or prodding. Pietro lay in his bed, staring at raindrops on his window, when he overheard the voice of Angel.

          “What’re you doing?”

          “I’m going to see the prince.” The second voice belonged to Kurt, Wanda’s favorite guard.

          “You know you can’t do that.”

          Irritation rose in Kurt’s voice. “This has gone on long enough! The princess…I can’t watch her cry herself to sleep again, Warren.”

          Pietro sat up in his bed, moving closer to the door to hear better. Wanda had been crying? Why? Hadn’t he done her a favor by locking himself away? When they kissed, she had pushed him away, cried out his name to make him stop. It would only make sense for her to want nothing to do with him. Yet…she cried for him. His heart ached at the thought of her in pain.

          “The prince named his sister specifically as someone who couldn’t see him, not under any circumstances,” Angel said sadly.

          “Whatever it is that she did, the princess has suffered long enough. He needs to stop punishing her for whatever it was. It’s killing her.” A long pause. “It’s killing me to see her like this.”

          Fool. Wanda had done nothing. He should know better.

          “No one knows why he’s doing this. I figure we just give him some time and he’ll bounce back soon enough.”

          “I’ve been guarding Wanda for a decade now. I’ve never seen either of them like this.”

          There was a heavy silence. “I’ve…I’ve seen him like this before. It didn’t last this long, though.”

          Pietro shut his eyes. He knew to the time Warren referred. It was when Pietro first realized the extent of his feelings for Wanda. He’d been fifteen…or was it sixteen? The prince had locked himself away for about three days, claiming a sickness. It had started the night of the Winter Ball; the family all dressed up for the occasion. Wanda had worn a beautiful red ballgown…one that displayed how much she’d grown up.

          The whole night he’d been unable to look at anything other than her in that damn red dress. The material of the gown sparkled, releasing a new flurry of dancing lights whenever she moved. She looked as if she had descended from heaven, mingling with the mortals for just this one enchanted evening, and the prince had fallen completely and totally under her spell.

Pietro had been overwhelmed with rage when the son of some dignitary approached her and asked her to dance. He hadn’t been able to place just why he was so upset at the moment, but he knew he had to do something. Pietro rushed over and interrupted the dance, stealing his sister away. He took her hand in his, and gently held her waist. Slowly he guided her body to move with his in synch with the orchestra. As the two swayed side to side, Wanda gave him one of her stunning smiles.

          “You’re the most beautiful girl in the room,” Pietro had breathed.

          The princess blushed. “You’re too kind to me, brother.”

          As the song ended, Pietro pulled away from his sister and bowed. Instinctively, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. It was at that very moment, when his lips touched her soft skin, that he realized his heart was hers, and always would be.

          He’d run off once her back was to him. It only seemed natural to lock himself in his room for the next three days. The teenager needed time to think, reflect, and repent—without distraction. To figure out how he was going to keep this a secret. How to control himself. How to hold the feelings inside and keep them in check.

          Pietro opened his eyes, returning to reality.

          “When? Do you know why?”

          “The twins were teenagers. I don’t know what happened, but it started immediately after the Winter Ball. The prince claimed he was sick, but I saw through it.”

          Silence again.

          “I don’t think he’s punishing Wanda.”

          “Oh?” Kurt asked.

          “I think he’s punishing himself.”

          A third voice spoke. “I believe you’re right, Warren.”

          “What makes you say that, Clint?”

          “The prince has voluntarily cut himself off from everything that brings him joy—his sister, running, fine food and drink, even reading the papers. All he’s done the past two weeks is lay in bed and…exist. There’s something going on in that head of his, and whatever it is, he believes he needs to be punished for it.”

          “What could he have possibly done to deserve this?”

          “I have no idea.”

          “Whatever it is, it’s hurting Wanda just as much. If he truly cares for his sister, then he’ll end this,” Kurt huffed.

          The guard was right. As much as Pietro deserved to be punished for losing control that night, he had neglected to think as to how this would affect his sister. He had assumed that she would be disgusted with him; want nothing to do with his existence for the rest of time. But it seemed that wasn’t the case. Wanda was a kind and caring woman…she wouldn’t cut someone off like that, especially not her twin brother. Every time Pietro had made a mistake, big or small, she had always forgiven him and welcomed him back with open arms. Why would it be any different now?

          The doorknob turned, and the door opened. Before the prince stood the three men, all sharing the same surprised look.

          “Evening, gentlemen,” Pietro rasped. When was the last time he had spoken? His voice sounded as if he hadn’t said anything for months.

          “Your majesty,” the two guards bowed. Clint simply stared at the prince.

          “I’ve come to take your dinner order, sir,” the servant stated.

          “I’d like the same as the day previous, though I want one thing done differently,” Pietro said, looking away.

          “And what would that be?”

          The prince closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His stomach churned with a combination of dread, anxiety, and anticipation.

          “Please have my sister bring it to me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments and kudos! They really encourage me to keep this story going. Again, let me know if there is something you'd like to see in the fic...I had a really good suggestion earlier and it was super inspiring!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to users drv and kmaximoff for the suggestion of having a chapter from Wanda's POV! I think I'll be sprinkling her POV into the story every now and then, to give another perspective. Hopefully, this is to your liking.

 

          Wanda sat in her garden, swinging on the simple rope swing that Pietro had made her. She wore plain clothing—something her father would have wrinkled his nose at. A long red cotton shirt and black lounge shorts. She dug one of her toes in the dirt and looked up at the clouds.  Grey and gloomy. It certainly seemed fitting. For the past two weeks, there hadn’t been any light in the princess’s life. Her brother had shut himself off from the world, his twin included. When Pietro closed that door, he took all the light with him, leaving Wanda in darkness.

          In a way, she deserved it. She was the one who had urged him to kiss her. She was the one who responded, who moved with him, desperately trying to drink in everything she could in that one glorious moment. It was her only chance to ever kiss him. The princess knew it the second she saw those guards walking towards them. Her servant, Natasha, had told her that when she was younger and more rebellious, if she needed to avoid detection, she would kiss someone. Public displays of affection made most people uncomfortable. Natasha had never been caught when she used that trick, so Wanda took advantage of the situation.

          Of course, she’d ruined it. Wanda had egged Pietro on, dared him to do more than just kiss her, to take it further. For a moment it seemed that he was responding in time with her, echoing her advances, almost like he was guiding her…But when she was overwhelmed by the feeling of him touching her, kissing her, biting her—she’d pulled back and cried out his name in ecstasy. At the noise, Pietro had fallen out of his trance and darted away from her. The way he looked at her…the sheer terror and sorrow and anger on his face—she’d never seen anything like it before. It broke the princess’s heart. Everything they had was ruined because she dared him to kiss her.

          Wiggling her toes in the dirt, Wanda shut her eyes. Her life seemed so empty without him in it. Without his smile, his wit, his kind words…it all felt meaningless. She’d been a fool to try and make him do something so outrageous. Yes, Wanda had been dreaming of kissing her brother for nearly a decade, but that didn’t mean he’d been doing the same. Nothing he’d ever done had shown an indication that he wanted more.

Why would he? It was unspeakable for siblings to engage in such an activity. Seen as revolting, wrong, perverted. Those in history who had engaged in it were looked down upon and scandalized. The twins wouldn’t be seen as any different. If anything, they may even be seen as worse. Pietro would be going below his station if he was to have a relationship with her—he was a mutant, and she was a sapien, after all.

Her dreams were nothing more than fanciful notions of things that would never happen. Yes, he took care of her when she was sick, if she was sad, and was constantly in her company, but he’d never crossed the line between brotherly love and sexual passion. The twin’s closeness was seen by many as odd, but it wasn’t called anything else. Just…odd. There were plenty of other siblings who held hands, that shared beds, and were regularly in one another’s company. It just wasn’t very common.

          She had hoped that he would see her desires through subtle hints. Her helping him disrobe when he drank too much…always hoping that she would be able to take off more than just his shirt. Her running her nails down his back when he was stressed…always dreaming of those nails running down his bare back as he claimed her body. Kissing his cheek or forehead…always wanting to kiss those lips of his. Her “accidentally” leaving her clothes on the bed when she went to take a shower, and coming out only in a robe when he was in the room…always wishing that he would come over and untie the silky fabric and touch her naked skin.

          The princess opened her eyes and sighed. She’d let her desires get the best of her and now everything they’d had before was dust in the wind.

          At least she had the memory of that fantastical kiss. One hand gently ran down her neck, tracing where the love bites had been. Wanda had covered them with make-up during the day, but when she was alone, she washed it away and stared at them lovingly. Little possessive marks that claimed her as Piero’s…even if it was all part of a show. She anguished over them when they faded away, and her skin was left bare and without blemishes. Even with them gone, she knew exactly where they were, exactly how it felt when she received them, and vowed never to forget it. If she had to lose Pietro, she refused to give up her memories of him.

          Drops of rain began to fall, the cool water sending a shiver down her spine. It would only make sense to go back inside, but Wanda just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted to drown in the rain, to let it wash away all her pain and loneliness…to take her back to before that damn night where her sun had run away. In barely the blink of an eye, the light rain turned into a torrential downpour. Still, the princess sat on her swing, letting the droplets soak her clothes.

          She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when she saw movement through the wall of rain. A figure with an umbrella was running towards her. Probably Kurt, worried that she would get a cold by sitting out in this weather. Much to her surprise, it was Barton, a smile plastered on his face. She hadn’t seen one of those in quite a while.

          “Your majesty,” he called, doing his best to be heard through the storm. “You must come inside at once!”

          Wanda turned away from him. She didn’t want to go inside. Inside was where her brother was. If she went into the palace, she would be so close to him…yet so impossibly far away at the same time. It was agony knowing that he was only a hallway away, and yet she couldn’t see him.

          Suddenly the rain stopped. Barton had reached the princess and was holding an umbrella over her. “Your majesty, you really must come inside at once.”

          “I don’t want to,” she moped.

          “It’s your brother—he’s asked for you to bring him his dinner.”

          Wanda looked up at the servant, surprise painted across her features. “Really? He’s going to let me see him?”

          “Yes, my princess. Now, quickly, come inside! Before he changes his mind.”

 

* * *

 

          The princess didn’t even bother to stop at the kitchen to get her brother’s dinner. He could decide he didn’t want to see her in the span it took for her to get his tea and bread, and she wasn’t going to risk that. Instead, she sprinted up three flights of stairs and down numerous hallways, barefoot and tracking mud all the way, straight to his room. Angel stood guard outside the closed door, the sentry doing a poor job of hiding his surprise at her appearance.

          “Y-your majesty,” he bowed. “Do you need a towel or—”

          “What I need is to see my brother,” she stated with authority. She wouldn’t be delayed any longer. Two weeks had been an eternity.

          “Of course,” he nodded, moving to the side and opening the door to Pietro’s room.

          Wanda took a deep breath before stepping inside. She shouldn’t let herself get too excited. Just because he was allowing her to see him didn’t mean that all would be forgiven and go back to normal. It could be that he was summoning her so that he could scold her, tell her to expect this isolation to become normal. He could be planning on berating her for her actions, for her pressuring him and making him do something he wasn’t comfortable with. Her mind was spinning before Warren closed the door behind her.

The air in the room was stale from being closed off for so long. A pile of tea-cups were stacked neatly on Pietro’s end table by his reading chair. His robe was draped across the back of the settee he napped in. The rest of the space was clean, barely any evidence of someone living exclusively in this room evident. The drapes were pulled back, a lone figure staring out at the outside world.

          Pietro had his back to her, sitting at his desk. The large mahogany wood was sat right in front of a large window—a window that looked out onto her garden. Wanda flushed at the idea of him watching her mope on her swing. It may have been embarrassing knowing that he had seen her in such a sad state, but at least he knew for certain how much this separation had affected her. Perhaps it would make him sympathetic, maybe even make him more likely to forgive her?

          Slowly he stood and turned to face her. He looked almost as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was clean shaven, his hair slicked back, and dressed in one of his suits. The only signs of distress were the bags underneath his eyes, and the clear loss of weight. Wanda took a tentative step forward, instinctively wanting to go and hug him, but stopped herself. Pietro looked at her with critical eyes, scanning her body with a confused look on his face.

          “You’re soaking wet.”

          “I was out in my garden when it started raining.”

          “It’s been raining for over an hour, Wands. Were you out this whole time?” The princess smiled softly. The use of her nickname and the loving concern dripping in his voice warmed Wanda more than a dry set of clothes ever could.

          She tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ears. “…yes. I didn’t realize how long it had been.”

          There was a blur for a moment, but then Pietro was walking towards her, a blue towel in his hands. “You always lose track of time in your garden,” he chuckled. He wrapped the towel around her, hesitating only a moment before touching her.

          She couldn’t help but beam at him. Good. This was a good sign. He was close to her, was concerned about her well-being, had even touched her. Maybe there was hope.

          Pietro pulled away.

          Wanda’s heart sank.

          “I—I wanted to talk to you about the other night.” The prince fiddled with his hands, obviously nervous. “I…I…”

          His eyes darted between hers and the door to his bathroom. “I…I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. You’ll catch your death if you don’t warm up soon.” The speedster moved about his room at his natural speed, merely a blur to Wanda as he ran about. Once he stopped moving, the door to his bathroom was open, the sound of water filling the tub permeating through the room. He held another towel and a change of clothes in his hands.

          Wanda smiled bashfully at her brother. “Pietro…”

          The towel and clothes were shoved into her arms. “Go, warm up,” Pietro instructed, a commanding tone to his voice. “We can talk after.”

          Something told Wanda that he wasn’t going to budge on this point. As much as everything within her was telling her to stay, to force him to talk now, to apologize for her actions, to beg for forgiveness—she knew it wouldn’t do her any good. Regretfully she took the items in her hands and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

          Wanda disrobed, removing the soaking clothing. She didn’t realize until now just how cold she really was. Her whole body shivered as she made her way to the tub. Before lowering herself in, she saw an item on the floor of the usually impeccably clean room. A grey pair of sweatpants. Pietro’s, clearly. He must’ve been wearing them earlier and forgot to put them away. The princess tentatively grabbed the pants and lifted them up to her nose.

          They smelled like her brother. Remnants of his peppermint cologne, hints of earl grey tea, and the cinnamon scented body-wash he used, all blended into a unique scent that was purely Pietro. As Wanda climbed into the tub, she held the pants close to her chest, wanting something of his to hold near to her heart. It had simply been too long since she’d encountered this wonderful aroma. She closed her eyes, embraced the heat of the bath, took in the smell, and prepared for the verbal onslaught that was bound to occur once she stepped back out into the bedroom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and kudos--I really appreciate them! If you have a question or a suggestion, please feel free to let me know in the comments below.


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